So I've been incarcerated.
Mentally locked away for months.
A few times.
My head it goes, it escapes me.
I go into a not stop soliloquy.
Of grand proportions.
Making light of death and dark of life.
I can not walk away.
For my perspective is fluid.
I'm neither good nor evil.
I only react to my circumstances.
To the stances raised against me.
I fight against violence with space.
I cut apart with my subtle knife.
The dimensions that separate people's minds.
I am the joiner of worlds.
The purveyor of words.
I am the fire that smote Fëanor.
I am the life-force in your veins.
I rain from up above in space.
Beware my face.
I have waded depths, darkness and deities.
And yet I live to tease you.
With my voice.
Ringing in your head.
Screaming of the Saint.
That fell from the great.
And now roams the streets.
Hunting for his next meet.